


The Space Between

by Savoytruffle



Category: Star Trek Into Darkness - Fandom, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, Open Relationships, Star Trek: Into Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savoytruffle/pseuds/Savoytruffle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My humble attempt to write Bones (and a Jim/Bones relationship) into the spaces between scenes of the (STID) movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Space Between

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [А между тем...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2480609) by [Skata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skata/pseuds/Skata)



> SPOILERS FOR STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS. (In fact, the fic probably makes little sense if you aren't familiar with the scenes of the movie.)
> 
> Basically, I have no complaints about the amount of Bones in the movie, but that doesn't mean I can't write in some more - along with some Jim/Bones!
> 
> Russian translation by Skata a available here: http://ficbook.net/readfic/1487586 !

“There has to be something we can do,” Jim insists, because he’s never met a situation he didn’t think he could turn in his favor.

“We have done what we can do,” Spock tells him. “We have completed the survey of the planet and made a record of their civilization. They will not be lost to posterity.” Because _he_ is a cold-hearted bastard.

“What record?” Leonard snaps. “We didn’t even speak to them. You can’t make a record of a civilization if you never even speak to them. Screw posterity. They’ll all be dead.” Because someone’s got to tell it like it is – lives are in their hands.

“Bones…” Jim warns, but forget it. If he doesn’t want to hear what Leonard has to say in plain terms then he can just stop inviting Leonard to the meetings.

“A cold fusion device detonated far enough inside the volcano could neutralize its eruption without adverse geological consequences,” Chekov suggests, because he is a problem solver.

Jim’s eyes light up. “And they’d never have to know about it…”

“Captain, flying a shuttle low enough over an active volcano will be risky,” Sulu warns, but in that way that says he’s already figuring out how to get it done, because he is a man of action.

“If anyone can do it, you can,” Jim says without a trace of doubt.

“We’ll be needing a way to get the locals away from that temple, though,” Scotty points out, because his mind always runs several steps ahead. “It’ll be in the blast radius.” 

Jim nods. “Sounds like the beginnings of a plan.”

“Captain,” Spock protests, right on cue, “I must object to this course of action. The Prime Directive is clear on this matter. We must not interfere with the development of their civilization.”

“Spock, their civilization is going to be destroyed," Jim says. "You calculated the probability yourself. They have no chance.”

“It is not a question of probability,” Spock says. 

“Well, it sure as hell isn’t a question of interference,” Leonard retorts. Much as he hates it, he knows he has to find a way to speak Spock’s language here. “We’re not gonna colonize them; we’re not gonna trade with them, changing their entire economy; we’re not gonna offer them technologies they aren’t ready to use; we’re not even going to show them our faces. And we’re sure as hell not imposing our moral codes. It’s existence or non-existence – on the scale of everything any one of these people has ever known – _logically_ , Mr. Spock, which one is better?”

“Dr. McCoy…” Spock begins.

“Existence or non-existence?” Leonard repeats.

“It is not for me to—”

“Existence or non-existence?”

“Existence,” Spock admits, the word clipped.

“Then we need to save their planet.” And, yeah, Leonard knows he’s aimed a bit below the belt here, but he’s got his pysch degree and he’d stake his medical license on the benefits of this course of therapy.

Uhura seems to agree. She lays a single hand on Spock’s arm and Spock turns until their eyes meet.

“I will take the device into the volcano for detonation,” Spock says.

Because Uhura is a communicator, and she’s so good sometimes she doesn’t even need words.

If Bones has to be out running around in space, he’s glad it’s with this crew.

And with Jim, of course.

 

With Jim, Leonard would run straight off a cliff.

 

With Spock back on board, a still turning Nibiru receding in the distance, and no injuries to treat (for once), Leonard finds himself alone in his quarters, sipping on a glass of bourbon to calm his nerves.

For all that Leonard’s still trying to get used to working alongside a Vulcan, it shakes him that Spock was almost lost.

It shakes him even more that Spock was so prepared to die. So prepared to give his own life so that an alien civilization wouldn’t catch even one glimpse of something they wouldn’t fully understand anyway. So prepared to die to uphold a regulation that he’d known was wrong somewhere in that green blood of his and that he’d been in the process violating.

Like somehow dying was supposed to be his punishment for breaking the rule in the first place.

“Hey, Bones.”

Leonard looks up as Jim enters the room. He has the code, never bothers to chime unless he has reason to think Leonard isn’t alone. Just like Leonard has Jim’s code. 

Makes it easier to slip in and out of each other’s rooms at night undetected.

“How’s Spock?” Leonard asks.

Jim just shrugs. “Fuck if I know.”

He’s trying to sound like he doesn’t care, but Leonard knows better.

“For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jim says, like suddenly it’s no big deal and he’s tired of talking about it.

As if they’ve talked about it at all.

“So, you wanna fuck or what?” Classic Jim Kirk coping mechanism.

Leonard doesn’t _not_ want to fuck, but he’s not too keen on being relegated to the role of distraction.

“Look,” Leonard says, “Command’s gonna understand what we did. I mean, they might try to give you a slap on the wrist or something, but—”

“Bones, seriously, it’s no big deal,” Jim says, skating a strange line between apathetic and aggravated. “What Command doesn’t know won’t hurt them. Or, you know, me.” Jim flashes Leonard a trademark smirk and whips off his uniform tops in one fluid motion. “Now, on to more _pleasant_ business…”

Jim advances on the chair Leonard is sitting in and Leonard finds himself holding up his hands to keep Jim at bay. 

“Wait a minute. Jim, you’re not some randy teenager who snuck out after curfew to go drinking and necking down by the lake.”

“Necking down by the lake?” Jim repeats, laughing. “You really need to tell me more stories about your childhood. Like maybe a couple minutes from now when I’ve got my mouth on—”

“Jim! The point is you’re a starship captain. You don’t hide in your room and hope your Mommy doesn’t find out. You tell them what you did and why you did it. Besides, we all decided together. Hell, I’m the one who convinced Spock.”

Jim waves a dismissive hand. “Nah, you were just backing me up.”

And, okay, Leonard was just worried before, but now he’s pissed. “The hell I was,” he growls. “I said what I thought was right. You need patching up, I’m your man. You want something in here," he gestues around the room, "all you have to do is ask. But out there, in a meeting? You can damn well bet I’m gonna speak my mind whether it’s what you want to hear or not.”

“Fine, fine,” Jim holds up his hands and backs away. “I get it. You’re your own man. It’s over, okay? It’s done.” He reaches down to pick up his shirts off the floor. “Maybe I should just head back to my quarters…”

Leonard grits his teeth and nearly lets Jim go. How this kid can show so much concern for doing the right thing one minute and so little the next is a fucking mystery, and Jim may think he’s protecting himself with this asshole attitude, but he won’t be doing himself any favors professionally…

But then again, if Jim leaves now, neither of them is likely to get any sleep tonight.

“Stay,” Leonard says.

And Jim does.

 

They don’t talk about it after that night, either. 

Things just go back to their usual between them. 

Leonard knows it’s not healthy, but Jim keeps his cocky confidence wrapped around him like shields on full power and Leonard has no interest in figuring out what sort of weapons he’d have to fire to take them offline.

He’s in the business of repairing damage, not causing it.

 

“They were twins,” Jim says, as he peels off the same shirt he went out in last night. “Or at least sisters.” He fingers a pair of hickeys on his chest with a leer. “Or possibly just best friends who are close like sisters." He shoves the pants down his legs and steps out of them. “Or maybe Caitian women just look a lot alike and call each other ‘sister.’ I’m not sure.” There go the boxer-briefs and now Jim is naked and standing right in front him. “But they had tails, Bones. _Prehensile_ tails.” He leans in to give Leonard a filthy, filthy kiss, then pulls back. “It was _awesome_.”

Leonard shakes his head and laughs. Jim back in San Francisco is like Jim on an inhabited planet or a convenient starbase – a kid in a candy shop. 

A really horny kid in a disconcertingly perverse candy shop.

Jim knows better than to sleep around on the ship, so when he gets off of the ship, he’s got a lot to make up for.

Leonard supposes that if people knew he and Jim were involved, people might think Jim was a jerk and/or that Leonard was a fool to put up with him. But Jim has a constant need for stimulation and adventure and Leonard has no desire to fill their sex life with an endless array of elaborate costumes, props and roleplays.

Sure, once in a while, they like to spice things up, but for the most part Leonard would rather lay back and let Jim jerk him off to the whispered retellings of his various exotic encounters than spend his days trying to think up ways to replace them. 

“Anyway,” Jim says, as he wanders over the closet, “Pike commed. He wants me and Spock to report to his office in…” Jim glances at the chronometer “… _shit_ , fifteen minutes.” 

Leonard watches as Jim yanks on his uniform, then disappears into the bathroom, presumably to splash some water onto his face and try to tame his hair.

“Oh, so, last night I heard that they’re planning to try sending a ship out for a five-year exploratory mission,” Jim announces as he reemerges. “Five years, Bones! Isn’t that amazing?”

“Thrilling,” Leonard mutters.

“Anyway, I bet that’s what Pike wants to talk to us about. I bet they want to send the _Enterprise_.”

“Oh, joy.”

Jim pauses on his way out the door, turning back to look at Leonard. “You’d come, wouldn’t you?”

Leonard wants to bitch and moan, maybe offer a short monologue on the dangers of space madness, but Jim is running late and there’s always been something about his optimism that’s obnoxiously infectious.

And, besides, who is Leonard kidding?

“Of course, Jim.”

Jim flashes Leonard a grin and is gone.

 

Leonard is looking over some notes on an interesting case from a colleague at Starfleet Medical an hour later when he hears the swish of the door signaling Jim’s return.

“Hey,” he calls out without turning around, “how’d it go?”

When the question is met with silence, Leonard turns. The instant he sees the expression on Jim’s face he realizes he was a fool to let himself get swept up in Jim’s endless optimism.

“It’s Nibiru, isn’t it?”

Jim is ripping at the fastenings of his uniform jacket like the thing is suffocating him. “They’re sending me back to the fucking academy,” Jim hisses, tearing the jacket off and throwing it to the floor.

“They’re _what_?”

“They’re taking the _Enterprise_ and sending me back to the academy,” Jim repeats, half yelling at this point.

Leonard is still trying to catch up. “But how did they even…?” But he recognizes the answer before he can finish the question. “Spock filed a report, didn’t he?”

“Yep,” Jim says, pacing now.

“And you didn’t…”

Jim turns on him, eyes flashing. “Oh good,” he says, “is this the ‘I told you so’ portion of the conversation? Because I am so looking forward to hearing how disappointed yet another person is in all the fucking lives that I’ve saved.” Leonard opens his mouth but Jim doesn’t give him time to interject. “I mean, hell, maybe I should have just fallen into line and followed orders back when Nero destroyed Vulcan. I mean, how irresponsible of me to have saved Planet _fucking_ Earth!”

Jim turns on his heel to pace away from Leonard, but Leonard leaps to his feet and closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Jim from behind. "Hey, hey," he says, holding tight when Jim tries to pull away. “I’m on your side, remember? I think we did the right thing on Nibiru. And you did the right thing going back for Spock. I just wanted to see you stand up for it, is all.”

“Yeah, well, Pike didn’t seem to appreciate me standing up for myself today. He thinks I lack humility. He doesn’t think I respect the chair.”

An entirely inappropriate memory of his and Jim’s personal “christening” of the captain’s chair flits through Leonard’s mind, but he brushes it away. He needs to find the right thing to say. 

He can’t say that Pike is wrong, because _of course_ Jim lacks humility. But despite appearances, Leonard knows that Jim’s conviction that there’s no obstacle he can’t overcome (single-handedly, if necessary) is driven as much by compassion as it is by hubris.

What Leonard feels with a patient on his table, Jim feels for everyone when he's sitting in the chair.

He _can’t_ give up if he thinks there’s someone he can save.

“You care about people, Jim,” Leonard finally says, because it’s what he can say unequivocally. “And you’d never let even _one_ go without a fight, let alone a whole planet. It doesn’t make things easy, but it’s who you are, and if there’s a cure for that particular condition, I haven’t found it yet.”

For a second, the words seem to sink in and Leonard can feel Jim relax a bit within their awkward embrace. But a moment later, Jim is tensing again and pulling out of Leonard’s arms.

Leonard lets him go.

“Yeah, well, apparently that’s not captainly behavior,” Jim says, quickly getting rid of the rest of his uniform and pulling on some civvies. “I need to get out of here. I need a drink.”

“I’ll go with you,” Leonard says.

But Jim shakes his head. “I need be alone.”

Leonard resists the urge to punch a wall, making a plea instead. “Don’t do this to me, Jim. Don’t do this to _yourself_.”

“I’m fine, okay? I just need some space.”

Leonard’s fingernails dig into the flesh of his palms. “At least tell me where you’re going.”

“Delaney’s,” Jim mutters on his way out. 

When the door slides shut after Jim it barely makes a sound, but somehow it echoes all the way back to Georgia.

 

Leonard has just finished talking himself into heading to Delaney’s – Jim’s wishes be damned – when there’s a chime at the door. He stands and walks over to open it manually.

Pike stands on the other side.

“Dr. McCoy.”

“Admiral Pike,” Leonard says. Then: “Jim went out. I don’t know where.”

Pike pauses a second too long, then: “What makes you think I’m looking for Jim? These aren’t _his_ assigned quarters.”

Leonard curses in his head, but tries to keep his expression neutral. He’d almost forgotten that Jim does have his own rooms somewhere this building. Leonard actually can’t remember where exactly.

“It’s good to see you again,” Pike says, when Leonard doesn’t answer his question. “May I come in?”

“Why?” Leonard asks, stepping to the side to let Pike pass. “You here to tell me they’re sending me back to the academy, too?”

“Jim told you about our meeting,” Pike surmises.

Leonard ignores the statement. “You should, you know. If you’re sending Jim back, you should send us all back, because we all made that decision together.”

“You didn’t _all_ lie about it in an official report,” Pike points out.

But Leonard ignores that, too. “And what the hell is Jim supposed to do at the academy anyway? It’s a waste of his time and his talents. You don’t send Galileo back to Sunday school to learn that the Sun revolves around the Earth. He saved thousands of lives, you know, including Spock’s.”

“And Spock, in his gratitude, attempted to take full responsibility for the mission’s outcome. Jim attempted to take none. You don’t think that’s a sign that he still has something to learn?”

Of course he does, Leonard thinks, but: “I don’t think he’s going to learn it by going back to class.”

“It wasn’t my decision to ground him,” Pike says. “In fact, I wasn’t consulted.” Leonard’s surprise must show on his face. “I guess Jim didn’t tell you that part.”

“He thinks you’re disappointed in him,” Leonard says.

“I am,” Pike admits, “but that doesn’t mean I’ve given up on him. I just think he has some things to learn and it’s a process I’d like to oversee.”

“So, what? You’re gonna tutor him on how to be a responsible captain?”

“Actually, I thought I might try to show him.” Something like a smile flickers across Pike’s face. “They’re giving the _Enterprise_ back to me and I’ve gotten him assigned as my first officer.”

Leonard blinks at this. He hadn’t really imagined Pike could say anything that would make up for the way Jim felt a couple of hours ago, but this just might do it.

Pike smirks at Leonard’s silence. “So,” he asks, “have I earned the right to be informed of Jim’s whereabouts now?”

“Delaney’s,” Leonard says.

“Thank you. And you know, now that I’m going to be your captain, I’d appreciate if didn’t make a habit of lying to my face,” Pike notes without malice. “You might also want to cut down on the backtalk.”

“I can promise honesty,” Leonard says. “If I promised anything else, I’d be lying.”

At that, Pike actually laughs. Then he turns and heads for the door.

“Oh, and look on the bright side,” Pike adds from the doorway, “with Kirk as first officer, you two can stop pretending you sleep in separate quarters.”

Before Leonard can answer think up an answer to that one, Pike is gone.

 

An hour later, Jim all but runs through the door and immediately starts stripping. It’s starting to become a weird sort of pattern.

“Did Pike find you?” Leonard asks, keeping his tone neutral. He doesn’t know if Jim will be excited about working with Pike or still pissed about losing the captaincy. Knowing Jim, it’s probably both.

Jim’s already got his uniform pants back on. His head pops out from the black shirt. “Pike was here?” Jim asks. Then: “Wait – did you tell him where I was?”

“Shit, Jim, I’m sorry. It’s just when he told me you wouldn’t be grounded, I thought you’d want to—”

Jim laughs as he slides on his jacket. “That crafty bastard. He acted like he could just divine my location at any moment. He was all, ‘I know you better than you think I do.’”

Jim’s dressed now and pocketing his communicator.

“Actually, he might have meant something else by that…” Leonard starts to say, but Jim’s already halfway back to the door.

“Sorry, Bones, gotta run. There was an attack on some archive in London and there’s an emergency meeting of the senior officers of the available ships. We may be getting back out there sooner than we thought.”

 _Attack?_ Leonard frowns and starts in Jim’s direction. Jim’s body is thrumming with energy and it doesn’t seem angry, so Leonard guesses maybe that’s a good sign. Still, he wants to know how Jim’s doing with all this. 

“So you’re alright with ev—?” He reaches out for Jim’s shoulder.

But Jim’s out the door before Leonard can finish the question, and his hand never connects.

 

When Leonard gets the emergency call asking him to report to Starfleet Medical less than an hour later, he tries to believe it might just be coincidence.

By now he’s seen reports about the explosion at the Kelvin Memorial Archives, and as he makes the five-minute run to the hospital, he is pointedly _not_ thinking about the convenient target a roomful of admirals, captains and first officers would make.

The chaos when Leonard enters the hospital isn’t promising, but any remaining illusions are shattered when a nurse immediately ushers his away from the undifferentiated mass of injured civilians and assorted Starfleet personnel and onto a turbolift. 

Seconds later, they step out into a busy but much quieter area, heavy with tension. Leonard’s breath catches in his throat. He remembers this wing of the hospital from when he was following up with Pike after the _Narada_. It’s for senior officers only – officers like Captain Gables of the U.S.S. _Columbia_ , who turns out to be Leonard first patient.

Leonard conducts a brief verbal and manual examination before stepping back and letting the scanners do their work. 

As he monitors the results coming up on one screen, he pulls up a second screen and skims the admissions into this wing. The name he’s looking for isn’t on the list, which is probably a positive sign, but Gables is going to need surgery and he’s not sure he can work on the woman in good conscience if he’s distracted wondering about Jim.

He steps out into the hallway, searchimg it for someone to ask, and his eyes land on a medical cadet looking overwhelmed and out of place.

“You, Cadet, what’s your name?”

“Thakur, sir.”

“Well, my name’s McCoy and I need you to do something for me.”

Thakur nods, looking relieved that she’s about to be assigned a concrete task.

“I need you find James Kirk. He’s the Ca—First Officer of the _Enterprise_ and he was in the meeting that was attacked. You don’t need to bring him to me, you just need to find out if he was injured or…anything. I don’t care how many people you have to ask or what they try to tell you about things being classified, just find out. Can you do that?”

For a moment, Thakur doesn’t seem sure, but then conviction settles over her face and she nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you,” Leonard says.

 

As he preps for the surgery, Leonard tells himself that nothing can have happened to Jim because the last time they saw each other they barely spoke.

They didn’t even touch.

If Leonard had his way, Jim would die of old age and boredom about a hundred years from now. But if that’s too much to ask the universe, Leonard at least demands the right to be there at the end.

To know that he did absolutely everything he could.

To be holding Jim’s hand. 

 

When Leonard gets out of surgery, Thakur is waiting for him, looking pleased with herself, and already Leonard’s heart starts to beat a bit easier.

“He’s still at Headquarters,” she announces. “They say he’s the one who brought down the attacker’s shuttle. He’s not injured.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Leonard mutters, even though it’s completely unprofessional.

He doesn’t care. All that matters is that Jim is okay.

 

Five minutes later, he’s looking for another case to help out on and finds himself standing in a doorway looking over at the too-still form of Christopher Pike. A ringing in his ears drowns out the sound of whatever the doctors are saying, but the hands drawing up the sheet to cover his face speak loudly enough.

Jim, Leonard now knows, isn’t okay at all.

 

Leonard wants to leave immediately to look for Jim, but there are still officers who need treatment. And after that, civilians. And after that, Leonard is suddenly being called upon to clear crew members for the imminent departure of the _Enterprise_ , once again under the command of James T. Kirk.

Given the disorder of the last couple of days and that fact that no one was expecting to go back out this soon, “clearing” crew in seems mostly to amount to doling out stims and advising people to catch rest whenever they can.

Hell, having spent the last ten hours on his feet and not quite able to remember when he last slept, Leonard almost hesitates to clear himself.

Naturally, the person whose well-being worries Leonard the most never appears.

 

When Leonard finally sees Jim for himself, it’s frustrating. Leonard wants nothing more than a few minutes alone with Jim to actually _ask_ him how he’s holding up, but he can tell right away that he’s not going to get it.

So he resorts to the next best thing and scans Jim while he’s distracted talking to Spock.

Jim’s bio-readings confirm what Leonard’s instincts (or, hell, _anybody’s_ common sense) would have predicted: Jim is in a bad state.

And in a total state of denial.

When Jim orders Leonard to the medbay, Leonard is half-tempted to drag Jim there along with him. Of course, with the amount of adrenaline running through Jim’s veins, brute force isn’t likely to get Leonard far.

And, frankly, Jim is less in need of a hypo than a swift slap across the face.

 

When the PA comes on and Jim announces his intention to capture Harrison and return him to Earth for trial, Leonard breathes a small sigh of relief.

At least Jim is listening to _someone_.

Even if it is Spock.

 

When the ship drops abruptly out of warp, Leonard keeps his mouth tightly shut, takes himself to the nearest head, and empties the contents of his stomach.

Standing up, he rinses out his mouth, splashes some water on his face, and heads to the bridge to see what’s going on.

 

The answers aren’t exactly comforting, but something about Jim ordering him to stop using metaphors eases the tension in Leonard’s chest.

With everything Jim is going through, Leonard is still _Bones_.

And Captain Kirk is still at his best in a crisis. 

 

Jim has long had a habit of complimenting Leonard’s hands, in private.

For Jim to do it now in the middle of everything over an open channel feels embarrassingly intimate, delightfully dirty. 

A secret shared moment just for them.

Of course, when the torpedo almost kills Leonard, it kind of ruins the mood.

 

The second time the ship drops out of warp, Leonard doesn’t make it to the head. 

In fact, he narrowly avoids vomiting all over his dead tribble.

Khan appears unimpressed.

 

The next thing Leonard knows, Jim and Khan are planning to board a hostile ship by means of a space jump even Scotty thinks is crazy.

 _Scotty_.

As far as Leonard is concerned, the last thing Jim Kirk ever needed was to meet another person equally convinced of his own invincibility. The two damned fool geniuses are going to get themselves killed.

The last thing _Leonard_ needs is to go to the bridge and watch, but he can’t stop himself. 

He’s never been able to.

This is always the worst part – with Jim in danger and Leonard at a distance, helpless to ensure his safety. Jim in medbay, sick or injured or even near death, is something Leonard can at least try to control. Jim trying to take down a souped-up warship with the “help” of a 300-year-old superman sociopath is something Leonard can barely _comprehend_.

Leonard may not be a torpedo technician, but it’s a huge fucking relief to be given something to do.

It’s also a relief to realize Spock has finally stopped playing by the book.

 

And now the ship is falling towards Earth. But Leonard’s stomach is pretty much empty by this point and he’s got patients to secure – both frozen and fresh. And with the way the ship is turning and lurching, they’ll be plenty more on their way.

Sure enough, in one of the ship’s more stable, gravity-having moments, a lieutenant from Engineering is brought in with severe wounds caused by falling debris, some of which is still sticking out of her body. She’s not the only bad case, but she’s certainly the worst and he preps her for surgery, but he won’t be able to operate unless ship stops falling.

Of course, if it doesn’t, they’ll all be dead anyway, but Leonard doesn’t want to think like that.

Jim will find a way.

 

Leonard’s faith is rewarded a few minutes later when the power snaps back on and suddenly the ship is blessedly stable.

“’Bout time, Jim,” he murmurs. “Some of us have a job to do here.”

He grabs the nearest nurse and goes straight into the OR to save the lieutenant’s life.

He goes directly from that surgery into another one, and then onto a third.

It’s only after that third surgery that he reemerges into the main part of medbay and he can tell immediately that something is very wrong. Everyone is looking at him, but no one will look him in the eye. 

Someone starts talking to him about the captain and the warp core and irradiation, and then a body is brought in in a bag and Leonard knows he doesn’t want to open it but his body moves on autopilot, sliding the zippers and peeling the black material away from the face.

From Jim’s face.

 _But we were supposed to have a fight,_ he thinks, of all things. _When all this was over, there was supposed to be time for a fight._

About how no man is an island. About how sex isn’t a substitute for serious discussion in an intimate partnership. About how proud Pike would have been to see Jim stand up to Admiral Marcus. About how maybe Spock’s not such a bad person to listen to sometimes, and about how if Jim ever told Spock that Leonard had said so, he’d be sleeping alone for a week.

About how you shouldn’t rush off to a meeting without kissing your partner goodbye.

He’s been looking at Jim’s face all this time, like he’s been waiting for that telltale smirk to appear and for those too-blue eyes to open and for Jim to say, _I had you going there, didn’t I, Bones? Bet you don’t want to fight with me now._

But Leonard does want to fight with Jim. He wants to bitch and moan and nag and browbeat, and ask why Jim always has to be such a jerk about getting in the last word – the last grand, noble, self-sacrificing fucking gesture.

He wants it all so bad, he has to look away.

And when he looks away, his vision is so blurry, he swears he sees his dead tribble moving.

_Wait._

Leonard blinks a few times to clear his vision, but the tribble is still moving. It’s definitely alive.

Like a switch, Leonard turns off everything that isn’t doctor or scientist. He’ll deal with the rest later. Right now it’s time to fix Jim.

 

“Doctor, you will not be able to operate at maximum efficiency without REM sleep.”

Leonard startles a little in his chair. He’s been watching Jim’s biosigns so intently that he didn’t notice Spock walking in.

“Should put a bell on you,” Leonard mumbles without much heat.

“You have not slept in the last 52. 6 hours,” Spock informs him.

“Been longer than that,” Leonard says.

“I have no record of your sleep patterns before you boarded the _Enterprise_.”

“Falling down on the job, then, aren’t you?”

“If there is anyone likely to lose balance, or indeed consciousness, while working at this juncture, Doctor, I believe it is you.”

Leonard can barely muster a sigh in response to Spock’s overly literal interpretation of his words, which probably does mean he needs some sleep, but: “Can’t sleep just yet. Have to keep an eye on Jim.”

“You reported that the serum has been effective and that we must now simply wait.”

“I know what I reported,” Leonard mutters. “Just wanna make sure nothing changes.”

“Perhaps you will permit me to monitor the captain’s biosigns in your stead. I will wake you if there is any fluctuation.”

“I’m not leaving this room,” Leonard warns.

“Nor will I,” Spock promises.

Leonard nods and closes his eyes.

 

Three days later, alone again by Jim’s bedside, Leonard finally starts to believe that Jim really will come through this intact.

He breaks down and sobs.

 

“Why didn’t you call for me?” Leonard asks Spock, three days after that.

Spock doesn’t need to ask to when Leonard is referring. “There was nothing to be done,” he says. “The decontamination could not be completed in time to help him, and to open the door before it had completed would have been to endanger all the lives Jim had sacrificed himself to save.” 

Spock pauses, and when Leonard doesn’t speak, he repeats himself, a rare enough occurrence to surprise Leonard.

“There was nothing to be done,” he says, “and I did not wish to see you suffer.”

Leonard nods his acceptance of Spock’s reasoning, though he knows it’s flawed. “If it had been Nyota, I would have called you,” he says.

Spock looks up and looks at Leonard and then he understands. “I was not aware,” he says.

Leonard nods again. “We kept it quiet.”

Long minutes pass in oddly comfortable silence.

“You could have permitted me to kill Khan,” Spock notes. “There were seventy-two other persons from whom you could have taken blood. Indeed, you had already removed one from his tube.”

“Khan’s was the only blood I’d seen work,” Leonard says. “I wasn’t taking any chances.”

Spock nods his acceptance of Leonard’s reasoning.

“Thanks, though,” Leonard says.

 

When Leonard sees the subtle changes on the monitors that indicate Jim’s about to regain consciousness, he doesn’t hesitate to call Spock. Next to Leonard himself, Spock has clocked the most hours at Jim’s bedside, and Leonard and Jim can have their moment later.

Leonard considers this recognition a sign of personal growth.

Standing next to the biobed, he cups a hand around Jim’s jaw and watches the slight flutter of Jim’s eyes beneath their lids. Soon, they will open.

“You did good, kid,” he says.


End file.
